


toil and trouble

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Series: hogwarts malec [2]
Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Alec, Developing Relationship, Hogsmeade, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's just fluff, magnus wants alec to woo him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up,” Alec suggests quietly. “If you can cope with study dates and Quidditch practice until then, we could have our first real date in Hogsmeade.”</p><p>Magnus’ answering smile is so bright and so beautiful that Alec actually feels a little dazed, like someone whacked him over the head with a cauldron whilst he wasn't looking, or aimed a bludger at his face. </p><p>“Provided we don’t kiss in the middle of the village in front of everyone we know,” Alec adds.</p><p>Magnus fakes a sigh. “Well, that’s my plans scuppered."</p>
            </blockquote>





	toil and trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! The first fic got such a good response that I had to write some more, and so now there's a sequel! You should probably head over and read the first fic before you read this one, just to be on the safe side. Thank you so much for your previous responses, I hope you like this one too. There's just some swearing, that's it, no more warnings necessary. Thanks so much, I hope you like it!

The sun is shining brightly and the grounds are pretty empty and quiet, and there’s a warm summer breeze ruffling Alec’s black hair, and basically, he’s having a fucking _awful_ day.

Jace smirks at him. “Seriously?”

Alec glares at him, tries to sit up indignantly and then immediately drops back down again, flattening himself against the broom.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is,” Isabelle says, and her smile is sympathetic, but her voice says otherwise. There’s a gleam in her eye that Alec doesn’t appreciate. He would flip her off, but that would involve letting go of the broom.

“ _It’s_ _not funny_.”

“I think it just depends on how you view the situation,” Jace drawls. He steeples his fingers in an attempt to look philosophical. “For instance, you’re a mere foot off of the ground. We’re still at _eye_ - _level_. You, being the obnoxious tree that you are, could probably be twenty foot off the ground and still step off of the broom easily, and yet here we are.”  

“I don’t even want to be twenty millimetres off the ground,” Alec mumbles, gritting his teeth as the broom wobbles. It’s true – the ground is right there, and Alec can actually lower one of his legs and feel the grass beneath his shoes, but every time he moves, the broom moves too, and that’s a problem, apparently.

“You realise that’s sort of the point, don’t you?” Jace says, when Alec explains this issue to him. “The broom is actually supposed to move, with you on it. I don’t think Quidditch would be as much of a spectator sport if it was just a bunch of guys hovering an inch off the ground.”

“Depends,” Izzy hums. “What are the guys wearing?”

“Chastity belts,” Alec grits out, glaring at his little sister.

“Rules were made to be broken,” Izzy says. “Belts were made to be unbuckled. Vagina’s were made to be –”

“The next words out of your mouth better be ‘treated with respect and fear’ or I swear to Merlin, _I’ll disown you_.”

“I can see we’ve arrived at a fascinating moment in the conversation,” Simon announces loudly, strolling towards them with his hands in his pockets, Clary at his side, digging through her bag and muttering under her breath. Alec chances a glance at Jace and snorts. There’s a dreamy expression on his face, not to mention giant, pulsing hearts in his eyes. He hastily rearranges his expression when he catches Alec smirking at him.

“Alec was just about to fall on his ass,” Jace says pleasantly. “Normally I’d charge you to watch, but I’ll let you off this time because I’ve just decided that I hate him, violently.”

Simon pushes his glasses up his nose and looks between them, amused. “I’m sure that has absolutely nothing to do with a certain red-head, does it?”

Jace glares at him fiercely, and Simon holds up his hands, backing away in surrender, grinning. Clary is oblivious, but she makes a triumphant noise and withdraws a bundle of pencils, holding them up like they’re a gift from Merlin himself, just as Jace hurls the last bit of his pumpkin pasty at Simon.

Simon snatches it up just before it hits him in the face, holds it up between his forefinger and thumb like its diseased.

“Aww, how sweet. I already ate, though.”

“Why is Alec imitating a sloth?” Clary asks, blinking at him. “And don’t throw food, Jace. It’s a waste. There are starving people all across the globe.”

“Mail it to them, then,” Jace says, rolling his eyes.

Alec takes a deep breath, ignores the bickering that starts up in front of him, and clambers gingerly off the broom. Confusion is welling inside of him – he spent a few hours soaring around the Quidditch Pitch with Magnus Bane last week, and by the end of it he didn’t feel afraid at all. He thought, after that, that flying on a broom would be easy.

But he can’t even make the fucking broom move more than a couple of inches off of the ground without his stomach dropping unpleasantly.

The thing is, Alec _likes_ Quidditch. He likes the atmosphere that comes along with games, the way the whole school buzzes with excitement for days before and after a match, likes the costumes and the never-ending stream of new broom models that get brought out and shown off. He especially likes _watching_ Quidditch.

Well, he likes watching _Magnus Bane_ play Quidditch, but that’s not the point.

“Will both of you just kiss already?” Izzy says exasperatedly. She plucks a quill out of her bag and uses it to tie her hair up in a twist, tugging on the hem of Simon’s robes as he walks closer. He makes a small, surprised noise and collapses on top of Izzy’s bag, awkwardly folding his limbs under him and avoiding Alec’s gaze. Simon has never quite understood that whilst, yes, Alec is protective of his sister, and yes, he doesn’t think Simon is good enough for her, but it’s more of a ‘nobody is good enough for my sister’ thing, and not a Simon-specific thing. Also, Isabelle is perfectly capable of looking after herself, which she demonstrates by glaring once at Jace and then once at Alec, just as a warning.

“Both of you squeeze closer,” Clary says, pointing at Simon and Izzy. “I want to draw you. It’s an art project for Muggle Studies.”

“Or you could draw them sitting where they are,” Jace suggests, eyeing Simon shrewdly. Izzy pulls the quill out of her hair, leans forward, and stabs Jace in the arm with it before returning it to her hair.

“Don’t be such an idiot, Jace,” Clary says, rolling her eyes.

“Not possible,” Alec says flatly. He grabs his bag, and then tosses the broom to Jace, who snatches it out of the air and cradles it to his chest.

“Where are you going?”

“To class,” Alec says. “Some of us actually pay attention to the fact that this is a _school_. Where you’re supposed to _learn_.”

He turns around, rolling his eyes as Jace and Izzy start to catcall him, yelling and cooing about Alec being old and crotchety, even though he’s only in the year above them.

Outside of potions class, Alec stumbles to a half when he finds Magnus leaning up against the wall. The rest of the corridor is empty, leaving the dungeons with a faintly menacing air, like Alec better get moving or else, and he can’t tell if class is cancelled or if Magnus is just waiting for something.

“There you are,” Magnus says, smiling slightly at him. He straightens up and adjusts the strap of his bag, looking unfairly put together, and Alec blinks rapidly at him.

“Here I am,” he says, taking another step forward. “Is class still on?”

“Of course it is,” Magnus says. “It’s exam season, they aren’t going to stop classes just because of the collective prayers of an entire year group. I was just waiting for you. I thought you might want a partner that actually knows what he’s doing.”

Magnus smirks, but Alec is still standing there, blinking.

“You were waiting for me?”

Magnus’s smirk falters slightly, and Alec instantly feels guilty.

“That’s not a bad thing, obviously.” Alec swallows thickly, takes another step forward, which puts him in Magnus’ space. “I was just surprised.”

Magnus rolls his eyes fondly. Then he leans up and kisses Alec on the cheek, before turning around and heading for the classroom door, leaving Alec in the corridor, looking bewildered, his hand drifting up to skim along his cheekbone. _There’s probably lipstick there_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t actually mind. He’s too dazed to mind.

“You’ve kissed him on the mouth,” Alec tells himself firmly, although quietly, just in case someone is listening in. “This is a lot more innocent than that.”

Innocent and _confusing_.

He ducks into the classroom still in a daze, mutters something to Professor Thomas, and then spots Magnus at the back of the room, patting the empty stool beside him. Alec drops his bag on the floor and sits down nervously, although he doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but all Magnus does it shoot him a small smile before focusing on the teacher.

“Today we will be making a Babbling Beverage,” Professor Thomas says. “This potion is amongst the list of possible potions that you will be asked to brew during your NEWT exam, so be sure to take extra care whilst following the instructions, which are on the board. I’m going to give you fourty-five minutes, and I expect a completed potion between you and your partner.”

Alec glances at Magnus. He’s never worked with the boy before, but he knows Magnus is smart. Smarter than most people in their year, and definitely one of the top students. He’s good at most things, and Alec is anything but a slacker, so this shouldn’t be too difficult.

Magnus evidently agrees, because he stretches slowly and wink at Alec whilst everyone else rushes to the ingredients cupboard.

“This should be a piece of cake,” Magnus drawls. “Provided all of those rumours about your prowess are true, of course.”

Alec looks at him dubiously. “There are no rumours about my _prowess_ , Magnus. And if there were, you definitely wouldn’t have heard them. You didn’t even know we were in the same classes for the past couple of years.” He grins as Magnus grimaces.

“Only some classes,” he mutters, and Alec laughs lightly as he reaches for his wand. He lights a small fire beneath their cauldron and then murmurs a spell; water pours from his wand tip and fills the cauldron halfway.

“If there are any rumours, then they are about you,” Alec says. “You’re the popular one.”

Magnus looks up at him a little warily. “What rumours? All good things, I hope. And nothing from Ragnor or Cat, right?”

Alec glances towards the front of the class, where Catarina Loss is slicing fairy wings with deadly precision, her hair tied up in a complicated braid. She’s usually Magnus’ partner, but she doesn’t seem to mind that Alec’s stolen her best friend for a while.

“Why doesn’t Ragnor take potions?” Alec asks, rather than answering Magnus’s questions. Truthfully, there are a lot of rumours about Magnus floating around the castle, but they aren’t ones that Alec feels comfortable repeating, or even hearing. There are lots about Camille Belcourt, and about his absent pureblood father, and about his sexuality, and his … _prowess_. Sexual prowess.

Magnus narrows his eyes, but doesn’t comment. Alec is not stupid – he knows that Magnus has probably heard all of these rumours before, but that doesn’t mean either of them want to talk about it, doesn’t mean that Magnus wants to think about it. Alec would rather keep things as pleasant as possible. Besides, he’s a private person himself, and he knows the value of not sticking your nose into other people’s business.

Instead of mentioning that, however, Alec just smiles at Magnus, softly, and without pity, before directing his attention to the bubbling cauldron. There’s a quiet pause, and then Magus reaches over slowly, like he’s trying not to spook Alec, and subtly squeezes his hand.

He doesn’t know if it’s a continuation of the kiss on the cheek, earlier, or if it’s gratitude, but whatever it is, Alec knows he wants to keep Magnus’s hand there, on top of his, for as long as he can get away with.

They haven’t actually _talked_ , is the thing. They kissed twice more after the revelation that they actually _wanted_ to kiss each other, on the dark Quidditch pitch, and then Alec had walked Magnus back to his common room, much to the other boy’s delight. There had been some flirting, and then another kiss, because Magnus was sort of irresistible, and then the portrait door had closed behind him, and the night had reluctantly ended. Alec had fallen into bed exhausted and happy, unable to stop thinking about how kissing Magnus and flying were so similar, such breath-taking, thrilling things that sent sparks tripping up his spine.

Sunday had passed slowly, and so had Monday, and now it’s Tuesday afternoon, and this is the first time Alec has seen Magnus since their not-date date, and all he can think about is kissing him. And maybe holding his hand. Or flying with him. Or anything, really, as long as it involves Magnus.

“We need flobberworm mucus,” Alec says, and then strides across the room towards the cupboard full of ingredients. They’re supposed to have their own supplies during the last year, but Alec doesn’t have any, and he needs a moment, anyway. He takes his time searching through the vials until he comes across the right one, and then he waits a few extra minutes before he slowly walks back to Magnus.

“Anyone would think that you were avoiding me,” Magnus says lowly, when Alec returns. He’s got his head buried in the book, even though the instructions are on the board and Magnus probably knows them all off by heart anyway, and Alec feels a little guilty for making the other boy hide his face.

“A little,” Alec admits, as he uncorks the vial. “I’m confused.”

Magnus carefully takes the vial from him and pours three drops into their cauldron. “Is that something I can help you with?” Magnus asks. He’s careful not to look at Alec for too long, and Alec feels like an injured animal that Magnus doesn’t want to panic.

“Can we talk?” Alec asks. “After class, maybe? It’s nothing bad.”

Magnus looks at him curiously, and then he nods. His smile is a little less bright, but he makes his voice light and breezy as he talks about how Cat wants to be a Healer when she leaves school, and so she needs potions in order to qualify for training, and about how Ragnor wants to _retire_ when he leaves school and live out the rest of his life in a mansion somewhere, living off of his substantial inherited riches and yelling at kids to get off of his lawn. Essentially, Ragnor is an old man trapped in a teenager’s body, is what Magnus is trying to say.

As such, Alec is a little less nervous when the bell rings at the end of class. They bottle up their potion, which looks _good_ , and then they spend a moment cleaning up the mess they’ve made before Magnus jerks his head at the door and smiles.

They find an empty classroom, and Alec winces as he turns to shut the door with an ominous click. He listens to the babble of classmates walking through the corridor taper off into silence, and then he clears his throat awkwardly and faces Magnus.

No words come out.

“Alexander, if you’d like to end this, you only have to say,” Magnus says softly.

Alec takes an alarmed step forward. “No! No. It’s not that.”

Magnus arches an eyebrow. “It’s not? This feels inordinately like a break-up, darling.”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Alec says, “I didn’t even know if we were together or not.”

There’s a moment of quiet, and then Magnus grins, slowly, hopefully. “Were the fantastic kisses not clear enough? Or was it the quantity of them that you took issue with, because I can always increase the amount, if it will help clear your mind.”

“Kissing will probably do the exact _opposite_ of clearing my mind, and you know it,” Alec says, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. He can’t be too exasperated though, not with Magnus grinning at him like that. “It’s just that we didn’t talk about it at all, really. I didn’t know what you wanted, and then you kissed me on the cheek this morning, and I just wasn’t sure.”

“I was going to talk to you at lunch,” Magnus says, coming closer, his eyes warm. “I left you alone on Sunday in case you needed some time to think about things, and I couldn’t find you yesterday – you are a very elusive person, Alexander, do you have an invisibility cloak hidden away somewhere that I should know about?”

_You could always search me and see._

Alec is not quite brave enough to say that yet, although it is tempting, with Magnus standing there, just inches away, with a wicked look in his eyes like he knows what Alec’s thinking regardless of whether he’s brave enough to say it or not.

“I know my way around the castle,” Alec mutters instead.

Magnus winks at him. “I’ll bet you do.”

“How did you manage to make that sound dirty?” Alec demands, half-laughing. “I was talking about a _building_.”

“It’s a skill, one that I’ve nurtured over time,” Magnus says dismissively. “I am nowhere near as good as Raphael, though, although you must never tell him that. He manages to say everything with a completely dead expression.”

“Well, he _is_ a vampire,” Alec points out, and Magnus snickers as he leans up to kiss him on the lips. Alec makes a soft noise and then bends his neck slightly, kissing Magnus deeply. He ends up leaning back against the door, Magnus plastered all over him like extremely enthusiastic wallpaper.

“What were you going to talk to me about, during lunch?” Alec manages to murmur, as Magnus lazily kisses his jaw, humming.

“A date,” Magnus says, punctuating the sentence with another kiss to Alec’s mouth, before leaning away. He straightens Alec’s tie, and the gesture feels so intimate that Alec sways forward a little. “With me. I shall still help you fly, of course, because I doubt that just the one lesson will do much in the long term, but I would enjoy a real date. Somewhere where I don’t have to worry about you toppling to your death, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I take it that you don’t mean somewhere like the library,” Alec guesses.

Magnus simply smiles at him. “I promise not to push. I don’t know if you’re out to anyone, but I promise not to push. That’s why I was giving you space, after all. But with your permission, I really would like to see where this could go. Where we could go.”

Alec bites his lip for a moment and thinks. He isn’t Camille Belcourt, and he isn’t confident, not entirely. He’s shy, and he’s not _out_ out, not to the extent where his family know for sure and have accepted it with open arms. He’s not even sure if he wants to be out to his classmates, people who have no bearing on his life, but he does know that he wants Magnus, however he can have him. That’s never been a question – his crush runs deep, after all, and has for a while, which is definitely not something that he’s going to be telling Magnus anytime soon.

“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up,” Alec suggests quietly. “If you can cope with study dates and Quidditch practice until then, we could have our first real date in Hogsmeade.”

Magnus’ answering smile is so bright and so _beautiful_ that Alec feels the breath rush out of him in one fell swoop, and his knees wobble a little.

“Provided we don’t kiss in the middle of the village in front of everyone we know,” Alec adds.

Magnus fakes a sigh. “Well, that’s my plans scuppered. It looks like you better be in charge of this date then, because if I had my way, Alexander, I would not stop at just kissing you. I would do something like _this_.”

Alec is still blushing when he stumbles into his next class.

*

“I need your help,” Alec manages to say, through gritted teeth.

Isabelle looks up a little distractedly from the textbook she’s combing through. Jace doesn’t even bother to look up, although Alec realises that it’s because Jace is asleep, rather than just deeply enamoured by the book in his hands. There’s drool on the pages, and Alec grimaces.

“Help with what?” Izzy asks. She catches sight of Alec’s grimace and glances at Jace, rolling her eyes and elbowing him hard in the ribs. Jace grunts and rolls over on the sofa, only to plummet off the edge and bang his head on the carpet. He comes up spluttering and flips off a few sniggering first years, and then glares dazedly at Izzy, who adopts an expression of innocence and points at Alec with her quill.

“Yes, you’ve got me,” Alec says dryly, rolling his eyes. “I needed your help and decided that the best way to ensure that you wouldn’t bail on me was to smash your head against the ground.”

Jace rubs his face and clambers back onto the chair. “Finally got jealous enough of my appearance and decided to do something about it, hmm?”

“Will you just _help_ me,” Alec says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Without the witty commentary.”

“I could probably manage the first part of that request,” Izzy says, putting down her book. “What _exactly_ is the problem? Why do you look like you’re about to walk into a war without your wand and wearing a large sparkly target?”

Alec fidgets uncomfortably for a moment, and then blurts out, “I have a date tomorrow.”

Isabelle actually drops her quill, and Jace looks like he’s about to fall off of the chair again. Both of them manage to reign in their expressions of pure shock enough for Alec to retain a _shred_ of dignity, and then Isabelle ruins it by actually squealing with delight.

“Finally,” Jace says, grinning with amusement, and yes, there goes the very last shred. “Who’s the lucky girl, then?”

Isabelle snorts unattractively. “Why do you even bother pretending not to know anymore? Alec _knows_ that you know.”

Alec shifts again, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, even though it is slightly gratifying to see the way that Jace looks slightly uncomfortable too.

“Oh, are we acknowledging it now?” Jace asks lightly. He looks straight at Alec, in a calm, measured way, but they’ve always been able to read each other better than anybody. Jace is his best friend, and he knows Alec, and his insecurities and his habits and the way he thinks, and Alec knows Jace in turn. He knew that Jace was in love with the tiny little fiery red-headed girl in their year before Jace had even realised that he didn’t _hate_ her. He knew the way that Jace liked his coffee, and he knew what flying meant to Jace, and he knew about Jace’s past and his worries and the way he used humour to cover up how he felt; Alec was as equally skilled at deflection, and they both knew it.

The point is, they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Looking at Jace, Alec could tell that if he wanted him too, Jace would bury this under the rug and pretend that it had never happened, that he would pretend that Alec was going out with a girl tomorrow, that he would keep Alec’s secret.

Alec isn’t sure what he wants, but he knows that it isn’t that.

“We are acknowledging it,” Alec says quietly, aware that there are others in the common room, and that Gryffindor’s are nosy buggers. “But just between us, for the minute. I don’t want – it’s new. The dating.”

Izzy arches an expertly-shaped eyebrow. “So you haven’t been rushing off on midnight dates on the weekends, or studying in the library with a certain someone?”

Alec looks at Jace for a brief moment, and then gives in, rolling his eyebrows. “Those aren’t dates, not proper ones. He’s been teaching me how to fly.”

Jace makes an outraged noise and Izzy squeals again, likely at Alec’s use of the word _he_ , and Alec himself feels a little giddy.

“Will you just help me find an outfit, please?” Alec says, and then he stalks up to his room with his squabbling, laughing siblings on his heels, and can’t help but be eternally grateful that they’re his family, that they’re with him on this, and always will be 

*

“How do I look?”

Magnus twirls on his heel in the middle of the dormitory, arms spread out to the side.

“As horrendous as usual,” Raphael says, straightening his tie in the mirror. Ragnor snorts with laughter from where he’s lying on his own bed, eyes closed, and Catarina tuts.

“At least I don’t look like something that a funeral home spat out,” Magnus says, eyeing Raphael’s black and white attire. It’s very formal. It doesn’t actually look that different to the school uniform, but he’s done something with his hair and there are no lines in the crisp white starch. The tie is different too, void of the usual blue, and he’s wearing impossibly shiny shoes.

“Both of you look charming,” Cat says, shaking her head. “Until you open your mouths, at least.”

“I agree,” Ragnor says, still lying there with his eyes closed. “You look wonderful.”

Magnus rolls his eyes and waves his hand. An army of pillows march across the dormitory and proceed to beat Ragnor around the head.

“This is my first date with Alexander,” Magnus says, crossing the room to gently shove Raphael out of the way and stare in the mirror, searching for flaws. “I need to look appropriately pants-droppingly gorgeous. As in, I need his pants to literally _drop_ of their own accord.”

“Out of horror, perhaps,” Raphael says, shoving Magnus back, none-too-gently. “Don’t make me curse you, Bane. You wouldn’t want to show up on your supposed first date with an artichoke for a nose.”

Magnus watches him leave with a look of amusement. “That was quite creative, for him. Do you think he’s got a date as well?”

“Obviously,” Catarina says, smiling fondly. “He’s wearing hair gel. And he didn’t actually curse you, which is always a sign of something good.”

“Either that or he’s dying,” Ragnor says drolly, removing a pillow from where it’s slumped across his face. “Again.”

“Where are you taking Alec?” Cat asks, leaning forward. She’s sat cross-legged on the bed beside Ragnor, her hair piled up into a messy bun, wearing a very large sweater and comfortable pyjama bottoms. She looks soft and sweet and excited for him, and it makes Magnus feel giddy inside.

“He’s taking _me_ somewhere, actually,” Magnus says. He is a little nervous, especially since he doesn’t know what to expect, which is why he’s dressed down slightly. He’s wearing a navy button-down and an abundance of rings, and his eyes are lined with silver glitter, but his jeans are plain and so are his boots. He does another little twirl just because he can, and grins at himself in the mirror.

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Cat says, sighing. Ragnor looks at her like she’s crazy.

“It is,” Magnus grins. It really is.

* 

Hogsmeade looks like a scene from a snow globe. Alec stuffs his hands in his pockets as they walk past a bunch of third years building a snowman, and wishes he had brought a jacket. It’s cold, although it’s stopped snowing, and he knows his nose is red and his hands are frozen. He’s just wearing a sweater, a soft new black one that’s a little bit tight – that’s exactly why Alec hadn’t _worn_ it, despite it being a birthday present, but Izzy had found it and declared war unless he wore it. He’s glad of it, now, because Magnus keeps glancing at him, running his eyes all over Alec’s body appreciatively, and it makes Alec think of their first conversation, the blatant once-overs.

“Do you mind where we go?” Alec asks. He has a place in mind, although it’s not exactly romantic, but he wants to make sure that Magnus hasn’t already got plans.

“Not at all,” Magnus says. “As long as you keep looking like that, I’ll be more than fine.”

“Smooth,” Alec blurts out, snorting, before he can stop himself. He has to keep reminding himself that Magnus _likes_ it when he flirts back, that he doesn’t have to keep quiet, that not everything he says is as stupid as he fears.

Magnus winks at him, nudges him with his shoulder and doesn’t move away again, and Alec feels like he’s coming back down to earth. He exhales quietly, a little relieved at the familiarity – they’ve been doing this now for a few weeks, catching up in the library, talking quietly over books and learning each other, getting to know each other. And then the nights on the Quidditch Pitch are filled with intimate moments, full of soft kisses and murmurs.

Alec’s a much better flyer, when Magnus is with him. He feels like a much better _everything_ , when Magnus is with him.

They walk for a little while, talking about nothing, and then Alec gently steers Magnus up a side-road when Magnus starts to walk towards Honeydukes. He’s been to Hogsmeade often, but there was his third year, when Jace and Isabelle were still too young to go, and when Alec was still a little too awkward to have people to go with, and he had ended up strolling around different streets, searching for something to do that didn’t involve sweets or butterbeer.

“I’m intrigued now,” Magnus says. “Camille and I always –”

Magnus cuts himself off abruptly, but it’s too late. Alec stumbles a little, glances at Magnus’s frozen expression, and then bites down on his lip uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” he offers, a little stiltedly. “I don’t mind if – if you want to talk about –” He breaks off, a little uncomfortable; it’s not okay, not really, but only because it’s their first real date and they’re supposed to be quite happy, but Magnus looks anything but happy. His face is a little blank now, but he had looked shocked at his own words.

They’ve come to an awkward stop in the middle of an empty lane, surrounded by fresh snow and little crooked houses. Magnus doesn’t really mention Camille, talks carefully around the subject whenever it looms on the horizon, and Alec knows why even if he can’t actually relate to it.

Camille broke his heart, plain and simple.

It had been the talk of the school for weeks, and even Alec had not been immune to the gossip. Camille and Magnus were the power couple; both beautiful, smart and stunningly confident, both on and off the Quidditch field. They had been together for two years, which was quite a lot, when you were young. And then, between one minute and the next, they had broken up, and Camille had packed her bags and left for France.

It had been the better part of a year now, but it still had to hurt.

“I apologise, Alexander,” Magnus says, frowning. “It took me by surprise, is all. I hope I haven’t ruined anything?”

Alec offers him a small smile and glances around. The street is empty, so he takes one of his hands out of his pockets and holds it out to Magnus, a little hesitant. He feels a bit stupid, standing there with his hand hovering in front of him, but Magnus brightens up immediately.

His face drops again when he takes Alec’s hand and swears violently under his breath.

“You’re freezing,” Magnus hisses. Alec grimaces.

“My neck is more cold than anything,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Izzy hid my jackets. She said they wouldn’t go with my outfit, and apparently the outfit is everything.”

“Wise words,” Magnus agrees, and he takes his hand out of Alec’s briefly so that he can dig around in the inside of his coat pocket. Alec clenches his fingers a little, and then blinks in surprise as Magnus steps in close, holding something dark and soft in his hands.

“That’s a Ravenclaw scarf,” Alec says, narrowing his eyes.

“Is it?” Magnus asks innocently. “I hadn’t noticed. Whoops.”

He wraps it around Alec before he can protest, looping it twice and then patting the eagle emblazoned on the side with a smirk. He’s been trying to get Alec to admit that Ravenclaw is the better house ever since they started going on study dates in the library, and Alec revealed that the Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Ravenclaw, at first.

“I’m taking this off if I see any of my classmates,” Alec warns him, and Magnus grins, steps up on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to Alec’s cold, red nose. Then he twined their fingers together and shoves their joined hands into Magnus’ coat pocket.

“Come on then,” Magnus says. “You’ve got to woo me properly if you want me to put out at the end.”

“Liar,” Alec says, mouth twitching.

*

The shop is surprisingly big, considering how tucked away it is. Magnus shoots Alec a curious look as he pushes open the door, and the little bell above the door announces their arrival. Magnus lets Alec tug him inside, revelling quietly in the fact that this shy, lovely boy is holding his hand in public. Then his eyes fall on the shops interior, and his eyebrows go up.

“Is this a Muggle shop?” he asks, amazed.

Alec nods. “Well, it’s run by wizards, I think. But everything in here is from the Muggle world. I found it in my third year.”

Magnus is too busy staring at the nearest shelf to say anything.

“Is it alright?” Alec asks, and Magnus drags back to him (not exactly a hardship) and spots the bitten lip, and the way Alec’s scuffing his shoe against the floor. “If you would rather go to The Three Broomsticks, we can, or Zonko’s, or wherever else you’d like to go. I don’t mind. I just thought you might want to go somewhere different.”

When Magnus was dating Camille, he would be the one to organise dates. They went to places like The Three Broomsticks, and to Zonko’s, or they made their way up to The Shrieking Shack and made out against the fence. At the time, it had been wonderful, and everything he had wanted. Now, though, he doesn’t think he could stand to take Alec to the same places, and do the same things.

“Different is perfect,” Magnus says softly. “Show me around?”

Alec’s smile is beautiful. He smiles quite freely, despite his serious nature, and Magnus quite likes it.

Alec pulls him through the shelves. There are so many things to look at, but more often than not, Magnus finds himself looking at Alec, and it makes him warm inside when he catches Alec looking back. _He looks good in my scarf_ , Magnus things, as Alec pulls a snow globe off of a shelf and looks at it, shaking it and watching the snow fall over a miniature Hogsmeade. A few steps over, they find a set of inflatable palm trees and flamingo’s, and Magnus finds himself laughing.

“Do they actually have a theme here?” Magnus asks. Alec shrugs.

“They rotate the stock every few weeks, so there’s always something different to look at,” he says, and it makes Magnus wonder. Alec doesn’t seem like a lonely person, but he’s definitely _alone_ a lot. Whether by design or not, Magnus is grateful that Alec doesn’t mind him intruding in his previously peaceful life.

It’s the nicest date Magnus has ever been on. The shop smells like parchment and something sweet, like fruit, and it’s toasty warm inside, snow pattering down against the windows. The floorboards creak beneath their shoes, and it’s quiet, nothing like the bustling busyness that comes with Hogsmeade. Alec doesn’t ask for anything. He doesn’t even hint at Magnus to buy him something, the way that Camille used to, but what he _does_ do is buy Magnus a pack of strange Muggle sweets that look like red and white swirls, and apparently taste like strawberries and cream. Magnus, in turn, buys Alec one of the little snow globes from the front of the shop, even though Alec protests.

The witch behind the counter smiles at them warmly as she bags up their little haul of goodies, her cheeks wobbling as she waves them goodbye.

The chill hits them instantly as they leave. Magnus shivers a little, even in his coat, and Alec leans forward, frowning in concern. He charms their bag to float beside them, and then grabs both of Magnus’s hands and holds them in his own, rubbing them gently to warm him up. Magnus just stares at him for a minute, heart in his throat, watching. A beautiful date, those jeans, and no expectations. That’s what Magnus has had today, and he can’t take the questioning, soft look on Alec’s face anymore as he tries to warm Magnus up, despite the way his breath mists on the air, and the way his ears and cheeks have gone red with cold.

Flecks of white snow settle in Alec’s soft black curls, and that’s officially the last straw. Magnus drags Alec sideways into a little alcove, and then he pulls Alec down by his scarf and muffles the surprised noise with his mouth.

Alec gets with the picture quickly, even though Magnus can taste his surprise on his tongue. Alec angles his head slightly, his mouth cold at first. They warm up as Magnus moves closer, gliding his lips over Alec, pushing him back against the cold stone. Alec gasps a little at the contact, and Magnus swipes his tongue across Alec’s bottom lip, heat building in his groin. He sucks on Alec’s bottom lip and relishes the sparks of sounds that flicker up Alec’s throat.

When he finally pulls away, it takes a moment for Alec to open his eyes. When he does, he looks a little dazed, his lips cherry red. There’s heat there, and shock, and he makes a soft noise of disappointment as Magnus takes another small step backwards. Not too far, just far enough that he doesn’t give in to the urge to divest Alec of his clothing.

“Keep this,” Magnus mutters, tugging on his scarf around Alec’s neck. “Wear it to the Quidditch game this weekend.”

Alec swallows thickly, eyes tripping down to Magnus’s mouth. When he speaks, his voice is deliciously hoarse. “Not that I'm complaining, but what was that all about?”

Magnus fishes a sweet out of the bag and pops it into his mouth to keep it busy, to keep him from kissing Alec until they both freeze to death.

“For wooing me properly.”

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? I hope it was okay, I really hope you enjoyed it. Please, please, leave a comment/kudos and let me know what you thought, if you liked it, what kind of things you'd like to see. Thank you so much!  
> Find me @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr, because my coconutcranberries one broke! Come and say hello!  
> And @cococranberries on twitter.


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